


Matchmaker, Matchmaker, What the Hell Were You Thinking?

by anarchycox



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Banter, M/M, Pining, Snark, True Love, government match making, happy ever after, rom com, supportive friends, wacky hijinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: The British Government has a match making branch - the national registry of love. Now that Eggsy has saved the world and settled into a good life, he wants to sign up but gets cold feet when he finds out that Harry has been waiting over twenty years to be matched. Merlin, who has never bothered to sign up, agrees to, just to be supportive to Eggsy. He sure as hell was not expecting to have a 96% match declared within a couple weeks of submitting his paperwork. A 96% match means you have to marry the person or face heavy penalties on your tax forms.But clearly the registry is wrong -- there is no way he is matched to that vain, annoying, pompous, annoying, frustrating, annoying git Harry Hart. Yes he knows he used annoying three times, leave him alone he is traumatized.Harry who has been in love with Merlin for almost thirty years, gets to plan his dream wedding, and never let Merlin know he is loved. Easy.





	Matchmaker, Matchmaker, What the Hell Were You Thinking?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mlraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlraven/gifts).



“I don’t understand,” Merlin said and stared at the courier. “I have to sign for what?”

“Your match make profile. Congratulations, sir, the national registry has matched you.” The man was beaming at him.

“I didn’t sign up to get matched, I signed up to stop my friend from freaking out about signing up.” Merlin stared at the padded envelope. “I don’t want that.”

“Sir, everyone wants to be happy,” the man’s smile stayed wide but was clearly more forced. “Sign, please.”

Merlin signed, and stared at the envelope in confusion and horror. He had been found a match. He did not expect that when he agreed to fill out the application. Eggsy had been so worried about submitting his profile to the national registry, that Merlin who had never bothered, had never cared, agreed to submit his first application as well. Apparently Eggsy had found out Harry had submitted 20 years ago and never been matched, and had a wee bit of a panic.

This had not shocked Merlin - who the fuck on this planet would be matched to that vain and endlessly frustrating peacock? But it had terrified Eggsy, and almost made him back out of submitting. Which that wouldn’t do - Eggsy believed in love and deserved to find a good match. So Merlin filled out the endless paperwork, and honestly that it annoyed him truly spoke to the process. Eggsy had filled his out eagerly. The quickest match on record was 3 days, the longest 38 years. And many found love without the national registry, but about 75% of the population submitted an application.

Well he was in this mess because of Eggsy, Eggsy could be there when he opened it. Merlin grabbed his keys and headed to work; Eggsy would be at the gym at this time of day.

He was correct, and when he walked into the gym and held up the envelope, Eggsy shouted, ran at him like a child freed from school for summer break. Merlin caught the flying lad, having to stabilize himself a bit. “You got matched!!!!”

“It seems I did.”

“Merlin, that is so brilliant. What is the bloke like?” Eggsy hopped down, and followed as Merlin made his way to his office. Merlin tossed him a bottle of water, and sat in his chair. “Open it,” Eggsy said eagerly after finishing half the bottle.

“I don’t actually have to.”

“Yeah, you do, red seal.”

“Okay?” Merlin was a bit confused.

“Red seal means you were a 95% plus match. Means well, you have to marry the person or there is like fine on your taxes or something. I mean like 40% of your salary fine.”

“I have to what now?” Merlin’s feelings were swiftly turning to revulsion. “I will be forced to wed?”

“Well come on, at 95% plus, why wouldn’t you want to marry the bloke?” Eggsy kicked Merlin a bit. “Open it, find your dream man.”

“Men are incredibly flawed, why do you think I have ignored this my whole fucking life?” Merlin poked at the envelope a bit. “Fine. Let us see my future. My life is half over anyways, let’s see who the rest of it will be spent with.” He opened the envelope and the first page was a congratulations standard form letter, and he put it on his desk. The second page had the information, and photo of his match. “No,” he whispered. Prayed. Prayed in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. “No, no no no no no no, dear god no,” he begged the heavens, but he was not heard. The name on the page did not change. “I have lead a good life. An honourable life. I have done my best to make the world a better, and safer place. I have cared for many, I have believed in god and praised his name. I bear no ill will for my sire who loathed me, I forgave every person who ever beat or belittled me for being gay. I have been as good a man as I could be. What did I do wrong Eggsy? What wrong path did I take that lead me to this?” Merlin stared at the papers in his hands. “Why, why would this happen to me?”

“Merlin, you are scaring me,” Eggsy said. “What does the paperwork say? It’s not a woman is it? They never mess that sort of thing up. Are they in prison? For like shit we tend to kill people for?”

“Worse,” Merlin whispered. “God has forsaken me. If they even really existed.”

“Merlin, Evan, please, what is going on?”

“My perfect, set by the her majesty’s government 96% perfect match, future husband, is The Baron Branlow, to us known as Harry fucking Hart.”

“Harry’s a baron, why’s he never said?” Eggsy clearly for a moment was stuck on that information, and Merlin waited for him to catch to the important part. “He don’t like have a fancy house somewhere, bugger, am I supposed to call him that? He never said anything.”

“As he has no heirs, the title is going to pass to a cousin. It is a minor title and comes with little. There is a patch of land, and a house that the family uses. He can go to Ascot if he wants. He mostly ignores it. Half the time I think he forgets he has the title.”

“So do you get a title when you guys get married, and oh holy fucking hell you got matched with Harry.”

“And there we are,” Merlin looked at the papers. “I change my name, burn my fingerprints. Plastic surgery. I already have several fake passports.” He waited for Eggsy to be properly sympathetic to his horrific plight.

“You got matched to a bloke you’ve known for thirty years.” Eggsy started to giggle, and the giggles turned to guffaws. “Oh my god you got matched to Harry.” The laughter was only growing. “Harry is your perfect match. I’ve listened to you plan the perfect murder of him for three hours straight. And you are a 96% match.” 

Merlin watched Eggsy almost stop breathing he was laughing so hard, and then the lad had to run to the bog, the laughter making him desperate for a piss. Merlin was despondent as he flipped through the pages. Oh look they were given coupons. Joy.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, knew them well. “Harry, I vote we murder each other,” he said as the man entered the room.

“Do not tempt me. I have waited 22 years to be matched, and I got you!” Harry slammed his packet on the table, and they looked at each other in silence.

When Eggsy came back, he took one look at them, and had to run off again, the laughter unable to be contained.

*****

“Okay, so roses,” Eggsy said, as he flipped through a wedding magazine.

“Yes, because we have no sense of style?” Harry sneered a bit. “Roses, Eggsy, really? Does Merlin strike you as a roses sort of person? Do I strike you as a roses sort of person?”

“Think he’d like the dyed black ones?” Eggsy suggested. “He keeps calling the wedding 'the death of all that is good in the universe'.”

“I am aware. And yes, he probably would like to make the whole thing look like a funeral, but my wedding will be beautiful,” Harry said. “The national registry may have matched me with the grumpiest, dourest, sternest man on the planet, but that does not mean that the day will not be perfect.”

“Well, can any day really be perfect?” Eggsy began. Harry looked at him, and Eggsy swallowed. “Perfect it is. Lillies?”

“I thought we agreed no funeral air to it?” Harry shook his head sadly. “Eggsy, have you ever planned a wedding before?”

“Ryan and his bloke?”

“And what did that consist of?”

“Uhhh beer, and...other things?”

“I see. I have ordered a case of champagne from a small vineyard in France.” Harry had a stack of wedding magazines next to him that were almost waist high. He had declared most of it rubbish. “I will be making our tuxes for the wedding of course.” He had a notepad in his lap, and was occasionally jotting ideas down.

“Do you miss it, ever?”

Harry looked up at Eggsy. Everyone danced around the question. Well, not Merlin. Every day he texted Harry to again thank him for the decision to not rejoin the table or to become Arthur. The one morning he hadn’t, Harry had freaked out and gone to the estate, to find him asleep at his desk from an all night mission. He had put a pillow under the man’s head, and a blanket on his shoulders, returned to the tailor shop. Three hours later the message appeared. That meant the man typed it every day, it wasn’t automated.

“Of course,” Harry lied. “Saving the world, is a hard thing to give up. But I would be a dreadful Arthur. And I couldn’t pass the requirements anymore. I tried, but my reactions are just too off.” He had passed, but found he did not have the drive for it anymore. He had spent decades pretending to be a tailor, and actually had picked up a fair bit. So now, he was a tailor. He made all the Kingsman clothes, understanding better what was needed in the field. He enjoyed it a great deal. And the regular hours. He had died, and was honestly not wanting to repeat the experience anytime soon. “Bluebells, thistle. Wild flowers in vases,” he decided. “No formal arrangements. A natural, riotous look for the flowers.”

Eggsy was furiously flipping through the magazines. “Really? Not your style is it?”

“He spent summers with his grandparents, they had a wild garden in the back. It is his happiest memories, sleeping out in those flowers,” Harry said.

Eggsy looked up at him in shock. “Harry?”

“I have an appointment for a waistcoat. You’ll have to excuse me.” Harry left his office, and went down to the shop. He fussed with fabrics, and realized he’d have to do better. Eggsy would catch on if he slipped up that much. Eggsy didn’t need to know that Harry had been in love with Merlin for twenty eight years. As far as Harry was concerned, he could take that information to the grave.

Again.

He had always made sure to take pride in the fact that the national registry couldn’t match him. When he had been thirty there had been a great deal of family pressure to submit an application to the national registry, but he had already been in love with Merlin for a couple of years, and knew the man hadn’t registered.

Harry had tailored all his responses around how he felt about Merlin, and sure enough no one ever matched him above a 54%. The registry didn’t contact you for anything under 70%. He had hacked their system to make sure he wasn’t matched, and for over twenty years had never had to worry. When the courier had come to the door, Harry had debated murdering him, and burning the file. But he hadn’t. He took it to his dining room table, and poured himself a large glass of brandy, even though it was 9am. He had slowly opened it, and read that it was a 96% match.

His hands had a tremor as they moved past the first sheet, to see the match. Because there was only one person he should have matched that well with. He had made damn sure of it when he had filled his application.

And there was his photo.

Evander Stewart.

Merlin.

He had no idea that Merlin had submitted to the registry, but there he was. At such a high match that crown and country expected them to wed, and the penalties were such that there was no way Merlin would refuse -- he was far too pragmatic for that. Harry was going to marry the man he had fallen in love with decades ago. He had had to sit to be able to compose himself for a good bit of time, before he had made his way to the estate. If he didn’t pretend to be horrified, Merlin would know something was up.

He couldn’t have his future husband knowing that Harry loved him, that just would not do. But if Harry was going to get to marry him, he was damn well having the wedding of his dreams.

A classic tux for Merlin.

Something with a little flair for himself. 

*****

Merlin was pretty sure the national match registry had blocked his number. After his fourth call, just wanting to make sure they hadn’t made an error, because clearly they had made an error. So he hacked the system, and their software, which was actually a solid bit of work, and the humans they had checking the matches, adding the personal touch, were all damn experienced. He didn’t go so far as to actually check what Harry’s application was like, that would be an invasion of the bastard’s privacy. But the system seemed fairly accurate. But he was the outlier, the one thing it got wrong.

He realized that he was late sending the text, and quickly typed // _ thank you for the only sensible decision you ever made. My job has gotten 30% easier since you retired to work at the shop. So good.// _

Merlin smiled satisfied. He was sure the texts coming every day had to bother Harry, and that pleased him. After decades of Harry bothering him, turnabout was fair play. He did some analysis on an upcoming mission and sent a formal email to Harry. Gawain would need some clothes for the mission. Their kitting out of agents had gotten so much better in the year that Harry had been working in the shop. It was an easy 27% improvement in the field. He had informed Arthur of this. Not Harry though, the information would go to his head.

Merlin finished up the analysis, and put together his weekly briefing for Arthur. He went to the man’s office, not surprised he wasn’t there. He went to the range and Arthur, formerly Percival, was on the ground with his rifle. “Sir,” he said.

“You should have just come here,” Arthur said. “Live round.” He shot a perfect head shot. “Now fill me in.” Arthur kept his practice up, and Merlin made his report. Merlin went to the cabinet and retrieved a rifle as well, and they chatted as they practiced. It was easy, smooth. It had been a great joy to Merlin when Percival had been made Arthur. 

“I understand that Galahad and Harry are moving the wedding plans along, quickly.”

“Aye,” Merlin took another shot.

“And you are pleased? Are you partaking in any of the plans?”

“Fuck no,” Merlin said. “You want to get in the middle of Harry planning something like that?”

“Fair point.” Arthur took his gun to the table, and began stripping it down; Merlin did the same. “Merlin...I know a few people. I could make this go away.”

Merlin looked at him in confusion. “You know people? You are the most introverted man I have ever met.”

“One pot and kettle,” Arthur said. “And yes I know people. Everyone knows people. And my family happened to have been a part of the original architects of the registry three hundred years ago.”

“Good for you.”

“My point is, I can help you out. You don’t have to marry that man.”

“Excuse me?” Merlin’s back immediately tensed. “What do you mean by that man?”

“Merlin, I have known you for 16 years. I have never heard you say a good thing about Harry.” Arthur began putting his gun back together. “I would not see you unhappily wed.”

“I do not think my personal life is a matter of concern to you, Arthur. And if you think in anyway, shape, or form, of interfering, I will gut you. I will rip your spine out and fashion it into a coat rack that I hang my hat on every night, that I return to my husband’s side.”

“You don’t even like him.”

“That is my concern,” Merlin snapped. He was furious at Arthur, and wasn’t sure why. Too many people interfering in his life. “That vain, annoying, stubborn, reckless, feckless annoying, rudderless, posh annoying git of a peacock, will be my husband, and you will not interfere.”

“You said annoying thrice.”

“Well, he is just that annoying.” Merlin was pissed off. “I’m marrying him.”

“Very well, I am just looking out for you.”

“Don’t.”

Arthur was clearly trying not to laugh. “Where will you live after you wed?”

“Huh?”

“Spouses do generally live together? Though, since you are just marrying to satisfy the government needs, I suppose separate addresses will suffice.”

Merlin thought about it. “Bugger. I need to talk to Harry. Haven’t actually done so since we received the news.”

“You haven’t talked to the man, currently planning your marriage to each other for two weeks?”

“Fuck off,” Merlin said, and put his gun away. “Sir.”

“Of course,” Arthur smiled. “I do believe he is in the shop right now.”

“Excuse me then,” Merlin said, and stalked to the bullet train. To talk to Harry. The most annoying, vain, bothersome, annoying git ever.

Fuck, he was using annoying a little too much.

******

“Okay, so...dj,” Eggsy said to Harry, as Harry was going through fabric swatches with Andrew. “My mate Jamal is actually a banging DJ. He’s slowly getting cred, can get him for you for cheap, get you in on the ground floor of one who’s gonna be best in the city in a couple years.”

“Good for him. He is only showing up at my wedding if he is your date,” Harry said.

“Ewww, that’d be like dating Merlin, you don’t fuck family.” Eggsy shuddered a bit. “Be honest. Don’t you wonder if the government matched you and Merlin, because you two just know each other well, have a familial relationship going on?”

“Trust me, I have had many, many thoughts of Merlin over the years. Not a one has been familial,” Harry’s features remained neutral. He had decades of not reacting to things, and he was using all that experience now.

“Sure, but can you picture kissing him? He’s Merlin, he’s not kissable. Like a cactus. Or porcupine.”

“Cacti have the sweetest water, Porcupines are so prickly because of their soft underbelly,” Harry dismissed. He held up a swatch to Andrew. “This.”

“Indeed sir, the aubergine velvet will be stunning.”

“You are not wearing a purple velvet tux to get married. Harry, that’s a huge fucking insult to look like late era Elvis for your wedding.” 

Harry’s jaw tightened just a bit. “It is a traditional cut black tux, with the collar, lapels and stripe on the leg going to be the velvet, it will add drama, and contrast to Merlin who will be in a severe tux. Would you be suggesting that I would in some way, shape, or form, sabotage one of the three times I will appear in the newspaper, Eggsy?”

“No, sir,” Eggsy said. “But uh, can I just?”

“Just what, Eggsy?”

“You seem to be more concerned about the wedding, and not the marriage?” Eggsy was watching him carefully. “Harry, you two haven’t even talked.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but for now, we need to resume the start of this conversation. No DJ.”

“Why not?”

“Because we will be having a live band,” Harry thought this was quite obvious. “A lovely quartet, and jazz singer.”

“Like old people music?”

“Eggsy, we are oldish people,” Harry replied. “I have already contacted my preference and they are available for our wedding date. They can even adapt a bit the appalling music that Merlin enjoys.”

“Death metal?”

“Country and Western.”

“Bullshit.”

“I sincerely wish it was such. The man adores John Denver of all people. And Johnny Money.”

“You mean Johnny Cash?” Eggsy laughed a little bit.

“Do I?” Harry shrugged, and began to put out fabric to cut. “But, the musicians will need a break. Perhaps we could employ your friend for the in between?” Harry smiled a bit as Eggsy lit up.

“Really?”

“Indeed,” Harry promised. They both heard footsteps, and Eggsy started reaching for his gun. Harry continued laying out the pattern. “Just Merlin, Eggsy, calm down.”

“Those sound like pissed off footprints.”

“Yes, well, Merlin has an angry walk, usually because he is angry at the world.” Harry looked up when Merlin came in. “Hello.”

“Where are we going to live?”

Harry blinked, he expected a million things but not that. “I’m sorry?”

“After this bullshit farce of a marriage ceremony, where are we going to live?”

“Our homes?”

“That is illogical, to spend the money maintaining two homes. We are moving into a new place together.”

“You live in a flat you’ve never decorated. Prisons have more personalities.”

“I like space to move, and besides I am barely there,” Merlin snapped. “Better than your place.”

Oh, that was not acceptable. “And what is wrong with my home, it is exquisite.”

“It is a put on,” Merlin shook his head. “It is not you.”

“It is very much me, I have picked everything in there very carefully.”

“You pick it to match who you wish to present to the world, it is not you. It is full of dead things. Dead dog, dead butterflies, dead people’s furniture, because you think the job made you dead inside, which is a fucking joke, because your annoying arse is not dead. You are the most alive man I know.” Merlin was staring at him, and Harry stared back shocked.

Eggsy just looked between them, back and forth, waiting for whatever would come next.

“Did you just pay me a compliment?” Harry asked faintly.

“No,” Merlin said swiftly and paused. “I don’t think?” He clearly was going over what he had said. “No, it was a statement of fact. You are a very alive man.” He began to tap a finger on the table, Harry knew a sign of annoyance at himself. He was clearly upset that he had said something sort of nice Harry - Harry would cherish the compliment forever. “I understand that you like space and things, so a row house is acceptable instead of a flat.” He was clearly thinking it through. “3 bedrooms. Updated kitchen, I like cooking when I am actually home.”

“I know you do,” Harry said softly. “I am not giving up Mr. Pickle.”

“I am aware.” Merlin nodded, “right then. I will take care of it.”

“You will?”

“I can find something that suits us both, if ye trust me.”

“I trust you,” Harry promised. “I am working on your tux for the wedding.”

“Yippee.”

“And we will have a quartet, and a dj for when they rest.” Harry smiled. “Do you have any music requests?”

“Oh, not really. I doubt a quartet would know the type of music I like,” Merlin sighed a bit. 

“What music is that?” Harry asked, and ignored the what the fuck look that Eggsy was giving him.

“Country,” Merlin said. “I’ll find three places and let you know when we can view them.” He looked down at the fabric. “Classic for me, classic with flair for you?”

“Of course,” Harry replied.

“Well, at least the clothes will be excellent at this travesty.”

“That was a second compliment Merlin.” Harry watched that finger move a bit. “I think you should go to the doctor. Perhaps you have a concussion or something.”

“Indeed. Excuse me,” Merlin gave them both a nod, and stalked off.

“Harry, what the fuck?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Harry, you had just said you know he loves country, and then play like you have no clue?”

“Eggsy, it is no use to parse out the games he and I play,” Harry said, and cut the fabric smoothly.

“Is the game that you are in love with him and he has no fucking clue?”

“Of course, and I am very good at playing it. Now I think I will cut this just a touch close.” Harry was working, and ignored the way that Eggsy was watching him. He cut fabric while the boy clearly thought things through. He put the scissors down when Eggsy approached. He softened when Eggsy hugged him from behind. “You are worried I’ve had my heart broken for twenty plus years.”

“Yes,” Eggsy was squeezing tight.

“I could have done things differently, but I didn’t. I was perfectly content to love him, Eggsy. It was my joy and pleasure.”

“That is almost even more heartbreaking, bruv.”

“Do you know a funny thing Eggsy?”

“Sure I know a few jokes.”

Harry squeezed Eggsy’s hands that were against his stomach. “My registry profile was written with every answer about my love for him. Every question, every preference, was about him. It is no wonder he was a match for me. But the key is, whatever he answered - I was also a match for him.”

Eggsy was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, it would have to be wouldn’t it?”

“One profile is not enough to make a 96% match, Eggsy. Clearly, some aspects of myself match to his desires. I have worked miracles with some aspects matching before.”

“I’ll book Jamal for you. You cut perfect tuxes for your wedding.”

“I would do nothing less.” Harry squeezed Eggsy again, and went back to work.  
  


*****

“Merlin...why am I the one house hunting with you?” Roxy was drinking a coffee as they stood in front of a row house in Kensington. “It’s nice?”

“Roxy, would you trust Harry to buy a house?”

“Yes?”

“And you usually are so smart. The man is the worst on the planet to shop with, he has appalling taste, and would pick a house based on in the living room a pretty colour, not the actual structural integrity of the house.”

“Okay, sure, but why me?”

“I have no taste, and Harry has too much. You are a useful middle ground.” Merlin smiled at the realtor, who was walking up to them. “Excellent, hello.”

“Mr. Stewart, and this is your intended?”

“No, that annoying peacock is occupied elsewhere. Ms. Morton stands for him. Now tell me about this house.” The realtor walked them through it, and Merlin drilled her with questions, and he thought it looked fine but halfway through the tour, Roxy shook her head no. “Right, she says no, to the next location.”

“But -”

“Nope, next,” Merlin said firmly, and the same happened at the next three places.

“Could you give us a moment?” Roxy suggested, and yanked Merlin to the side. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

“You keep shaking your head no, and I am just keeping this moving at a brisk pace.”

“You are being rude, and you are often stern, but never rude.”

“I dislike this experience.”

“Everyone does, but Kingsman up.”

Merlin looked at her. “I am no agent Roxy, Manners Maketh Man has never applied to mere support staff.”

“Oh for fucks sake, do not pull that crap with me. You thank that man for his hard work, and dismiss him, because I have a plan.”

Merlin sighed in relief. “Excellent.” A Roxy plan would be better than this. He went to the realtor, and apologized for his behaviour, thanked the man profusely, said he would no longer be needed. He went back to Roxy. “Now is your plan throwing out everything Harry owns and us moving into a flat in a modern building?”

“No, come on.”

“Can I know where we are going?”

“No, come on.”

Merlin followed Roxy and she took him to a mews house not too far from Harry’s place - one station away. It was boxier than Harry’s, and a green/grey outside that appealed to Merlin. He looked at Roxy who unlocked it and took him in. The garden level had been completely redone, walls knocked out, a lovely open concept with the light that Merlin adored in his corner flat. The kitchen was very well appointed, and it was all a lovely neutral palette. “Ohhh,” he said softly. “Mine?” he whimpered. But he didn’t know if Harry would like it. He didn’t like open around him, space bothered him. “But Harry -”

“Upstairs,” Roxy said. Merlin went up and it was clear work had been done, but it was still a little more old fashioned than the reno on the garden level. It had all its rooms as they had been, and these blue walls that looks like a sky almost ready to storm.

“Harry would love this colour,” Merlin said. He looked around the rooms, and the master had a small terrace off it. “He would like this.”

“He would. I am asking 2 million, you two can have it for 1.8”

“This is yours?” Merlin looked at her. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’m an investor in a company that rehabs falling apart houses.” Roxy shrugged. “I can get you that price on this.”

“Ye knew I would love this, why did you not say so from the get go?"

“Because you needed to see a few wrong places first. And, I wanted to make sure you weren’t just looking at the houses that would suit you, and not Harry.”

“How dare you?” Merlin gave her a cold glare. “Why would I choose a house that Harry could not be happy in? He deserves a comfortable home, one where he is content and finds refuge. Why would I choose a poor house for him?”

“I don’t know,” Roxy asked. “Why would you?”

“I wouldn’t, and to suggest I would not take care of Harry, a task I have done for more than half my life, makes me question the faith I put on your judgement in the field. A house to annoy Harry would do me no favours. I would never buy a house to piss him off, that’s my personal pleasure and joy to do. A house doesn’t take that annoying prat of an annoying contrary, vain, prideful, annoying bastard down, that is my job. Now I am paying full market value for this. Deal with it.” Merlin stalked off. What was it with people of the last name Morton not understanding something that was so clearly very simple?

“You said annoying a lot.”

“He is just that annoying.”

“Of course he is,” Roxy said. “Shall we go fill out paperwork?”

“We shall.”

“Shouldn’t we involve Harry?”

“No, I’m buying this for his annoying arse, it is fine.” He was grateful that Roxy didn’t say anything else, but just took him to an office to begin the process.

*****

“Harry, I cannot eat another canape.” Eggsy was looking a touch green, and Harry sniffed another of the canapes. “No it isn’t rank, it is just this is the fourth caterer.” He was sort of hugging his stomach. “You hate them all.”

“Of course I do, this food is all subpar, unengaged, uninspired.” Harry huffed a bit, and poked at puff pastry. “He doesn’t like finger foods.”

“Then why are we looking at fucking canapes?”

“I suggested they should all be bold, it did not meet with success,” Harry sighed. “It has to be tasty, and distinct, and a touch...bold.”

Eggsy looked at him. “Okay, then. Let’s go find you bold.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Bruv, you ain’t gonna find bold where you are looking. Let’s go get you bold.” 

Harry followed Eggsy to Eggsy’s old neck of the woods, and passed the pub they had that first drink. He lost himself in the nostalgia of it, and almost plowed into Eggsy. “Where are we?”

“You want bold, I bring you bold.” Eggsy gestured to a sign.

“Taste of the West Indies?”

“This is the best food in London,” Eggsy said. “Owner is amazing, it is a great mix of curry, and jerk and african and just, look. He loves these sorts of flavours.”

“I know,” Harry looked at the restaurant that had maybe eight tables, three of which had men playing cards and dominos. “Really?”

“Trust me,” Eggsy promised, and dragged Harry in.

40 minutes later, Harry shook hands on a contract for the wedding a month from now. Harry hugged Eggsy. “If you were not such a formidable agent, I would suggest you become a wedding planner. I could not have done this without you.”

“Have to get practice in, be prepared for when I get matched,” Eggsy flushed a bit. “Suppose that sounds stupid, could be years.”

“My boy, romance is never a stupid desire.” 

“I mean, they matter more than anything, but guess I picture more an afternoon wedding? Casual, fun.”

“That sounds perfect for you.”

“Just need to get matched.”

“Remember to not judge by my circumstances, they are unique.” Harry checked his phone. “Excellent. Our next tasting is soon.”

“Harry, I’m so damn full. And you found a caterer.”

“Wedding cake, Eggsy.”

“I have a little room.” They went to the cake tasting, and Harry sent Merlin photos of some of the cakes and pictures of how they could be decorated.

//if it is tasty, why does it need all that frippery?//

Harry sighed,  **because it is a wedding cake it is supposed to frip.**

//how do you know there is even cake under all that decoration, what if the cake is a lie? I do not want lie cake, Harry. I want lemon.//

**Don’t make ancient video game references. And lemon is not a wedding cake flavour.**

//what video game? You know I hate them. LEMON AND NO FRIP//

**Lemon and I get fripp.**

//lemon and 50% fripp//

Harry smiled. “Now let’s talk about a lemon cake with pink fondant and gold trim.”

Eggsy snorted at that, and ate more of the cake.

*******

“Oh fuck off,” Merlin snapped. He had more mail from the national registry. “I know I’m not supposed to call you anymore. What the fuck is this?” He took the envelope from the woman. “A restraining order?”

“No sir, we need to give you our deepest apologies. It seems your insistence we were wrong struck a chord with one of our matchmakers, one of our best, and she double checked. You were right.”

“Excuse me?” Merlin looked at the envelope, and back at the woman. “What are you saying, we aren’t a match at all?”

“No, you are a match, just not in zone where the government requires you wed. It is a 76% match, not a 96% match. The letter explains it fully. We again sincerely apologize. Please sign here.”

Merlin signed the slip, and looked at her. “Has this news been delivered to Mr. Hart?”

“He was my next stop. Have a good day sir.”

“You as well.” Merlin closed his door, and tapped his glasses. “Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin?”

“Tell me you are at home?” He opened his window, and shot a dart into the woman’s rear left tire. He ran out of his back door.

“I am.”

“Good, get to Harry’s, you need to pretend to be him. I will get him out of the house. Mail will be coming for him. You will sign for it, and destroy it.”

“What mail is this?”

“The registry, made a mistake. 76% not 96%. He can’t know.” Merlin was hopping fences, taking every short cut he knew. “You accept the letter, destroy it.”

“You want me to commit fraud?”

“You kill people all the time.”

“This seems a lot of fuss for a man you find thrice annoying.”

Merlin was almost at Harry’s mews home. “You going to help or not?”

“I’m on my way,” Percival replied and disconnected.

Merlin almost ran directly into Harry’s door. He didn’t bother to collect his composure, just knocked on the door. “Emergency,” he huffed out. “Bugger,” he groaned. Harry’s hands were warm, the gun calluses barely there anymore as they guided him into the house. Merlin realized he was still in a vest and sweatpants, it made him feel a bit vulnerable to not be in his jumper when dealing with Harry - exposed.

“Merlin, what is going on? I will call Eggsy.”

Fuck, now he had to come up with an excuse. “Dancing.”

“Excuse me?”

“I cannae dance, and I’ll be damned if you show me up at our wedding. Our new house is empty for a few more days. Go there, teach me, so I can be better than you. It shouldn’t take long getting better than you.” That should get Harry wound up.

“I took ballroom dancing since I was five, and you expect one lesson to make you better than me?”

Yes, Harry looked very affronted. That should do it, but he needed to twist it a bit more. “Of course,” Merlin managed a smirk to hide his desperation.

“Well, I certainly cannot have you looking appalling on the dance floor next to me,” Harry declared, guided them out, and locked his door. “You are so heavy on your feet, getting you to float on air will be a task so impossible that I am the only one who will be successful at it.”

Wait, that bothered him. “I am not heavy on my feet.”

“You clomp, and stomp, and tromp like a wild thing,” Harry said. “Frankenstein was lighter on his feet.”

“I do not.” Merlin was ready to settle into an argument with Harry, he was always ready and willing to settle into an argument with Harry, but Percival was there in a shadow, and gave a signal. “Right we can fight about this as we walk, come on.” Merlin started walking. “Though it won’t take me the whole walk to explain to you all the reasons you are wrong and I am right.” He knew that would be catnip to Harry, and sure enough the man followed.

They bickered the whole way to the new house, and once inside, Harry paused. “What?” Merlin asked. 

“You painted.”

“Aye, I had it painted. Do you not like it?”

“It is lovely that perfect yellow of aged paper. I love that shade.”

“I know,” Merlin replied. “It is one of the few things that you love that makes sense. It is a good colour.” Merlin queued up some music on his phone. “Right then, you lead, but what happens next?”

“For once in your life you listen to my ideas, you follow.”

Merlin was a little lost. “Harry, I have done nothing but follow you for thirty years. I have gone everywhere you have, trailing behind you always. Unseen, but I was there.”

“Then perhaps your lead feet will not have a difficult time of it. Count with me. One two three, one two three, one -” Harry started to move them around the room.

Merlin had watched Harry dance on missions for years, but it was different to feel it. To be a part of it. He knew better than to look down at their feet, kept his eyes on Harry. “Haven’t stepped on you yet.”

“We’ve barely done one circle of the living room. I am sure you will.”

“Admit it, I am not so heavy on my feet as all that,” Merlin responded. They continued to circle the living room, and Merlin slowly relaxed into the dance. “You are very good at this,” he conceded, and perhaps he enjoyed the way that Harry stumbled. “Or not so much.” 

“That was on purpose. Why are you all of a sudden paying me compliments.”

“I have always paid you compliments,” Merlin protested. The music cut out as his phone beeped and he went to check it. “Not my fault you were not listening.” 

//success//

Merlin needed to go, he was sure that words had to be exchanged with his boss. “Okay, I’m set for dancing. Bye.”

“No, wait, what compliments?”

Merlin was confused. He looked at Harry. “You aren’t allowed to die you annoying git, not until you come home so I can kill you myself.” He thought it was obvious.

“Pray tell, how is that a fucking compliment?” Harry was clearly frustrated.

“Because I wanted nothing more than for you to come home,” Merlin looked at him. “Who would I follow, if you weren’t there? Why would I want to follow any but you?” He left the house, and sure enough Percival was waiting at his flat. “Arthur,” Merlin said politely. He held out his hand.

Percival would not give him the envelope. “I am keeping this. Because I want you to think very hard about why you are so determined to marry a man, that you profess you don’t want to marry.”

“Because,” Merlin answered. He paused. “Because?”

“Hmmmm,” Percival gave him a look, and walked away.

Because made sense, he was sure of it.

*****

“Harry, it looks gorgeous,” Eggsy sighed, heart all gooey. “It is seriously a blend of you two. Mix of Stern and Stuffy.” He winced. “I mean a mix of spartan and maiden aunt.”

“Want one more go?” Harry was laughing a little.

“Austere and Austen?”

“Oh I actually quite like that,” Harry decided. It was only a few hours to the wedding, and they were finishing decorating the reception hall. Harry could have hired someone, but he wanted to do it himself. It had to be perfect and like he would trust anyone else. They would get married to the left, and that area would turn into a dance floor later. Fresh flowers from Scotland everywhere, purple table cloths, silver accents. Everything was what he had pictured if he were to marry Merlin. He just never thought that would happen. “Yes, Austere and Austen, it is us, isn’t it?”

Harry heard a commotion at the door, and looked over. “Do you know that woman?”

Eggsy looked. “Nope. Government bloke though.”

“Yes, you can tell by the suit.” Harry went over. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Harry Hart,” the woman said. “The wedding announcement was not cancelled.”

“I’m Harry Hart, and of course not, the wedding is in three hours.”

“No, I met Mr. Hart, I would remember the glasses.”

“I assure you, I am Harry Hart.”

“Who signed for the letter, then? It matched the signature we have on file.”

“What letter?”

“The letter explaining our mistake that Harry Hart and Evander Stewart are a 76% match and not a 96% match. They are not legally obligated to wed, and honestly at 76% I don’t think they, well you, should rush into marriage.”

“When was this letter delivered?” Harry asked, and the woman gave him a date. The day Merlin had shown up his door, and asked for a dance lesson. Out of nowhere. After running. “Thank you, but I do believe we will be married today.”

“But sir -”

“I appreciate your diligence, but trust me all is well.” Harry hustled the woman out of the room, and beamed at Eggsy. “Eggsy, Merlin loves me.”

“Yesterday, I heard him say that he was going to kill you by slowly deoxyginating your blood and replacing it with metal, to turn you into actual iron which he would then hollow and use to store shoes.”

“That means he wants me there, always. And worries when I go far afield.”

“Harry...no it means he is thinking of ways to kill you. Like always.” Harry looked at his phone. Even today he had the daily message from Merlin thanking him for becoming a tailor.

“No, Eggsy. You’ll see. He loves me.” Harry was beaming. “Oh today is going to be a wonderful day.”

“Harry, you have like an evil smile on your face. I don’t think wedding days are supposed to include evil smiles?” Eggsy looked worried. “That should be a happy smile.”

“An evil smile can also be a happy smile,” Harry promised. “We need to get ready. I am grateful that you will stand next to me.”

“No place I’d rather be. You’ll stand next to me when it is my turn?”

Harry gave Eggsy a gentle hug, “It will be my pleasure.”

*****

Merlin slowly dressed in his tux. Just a touch snug, some sort joke of Harry’s. He had never been able to tie a bow tie, and Percival helped him. Merlin thought he’d be more nervous than he was. Instead he was oddly just...content. He stood still, while Percival adjusted the tie.

“Last chance to walk away. You could try dating him? 76% is a good number for dating.”

Merlin kicked Percival just a bit. “Fuck you. I’m marrying the annoying man.”

“Only said it once that time.”

“Saving it up for our honeymoon.”

“I...see.” Percival smiled politely. “Well, no kink shaming.”

“Why are we friends again?”

“Because,” Percival smiled at him, and kissed Merlin’s cheek. “To your wedding?”

“Aye.”

Merlin and Percival walked out of the room at the reception hall they had, and went to they were supposed to be. They were exactly on time, and Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course he is late.”

“Would you want him to be any other way?”

“No, what would I complain about then?”

Merlin watched Harry come through the doors, Eggsy at his side. “You are late!” he shouted, and all the guests looked at them, a mix of surprise and a few smirks.

“Well, you are a thief.”

“Am I?”

“I found out, Merlin.”

Fuck, Merlin thought, “What am I a thief of?”

“My heart. You goddamn stole it almost 30 years ago, and waited this long to actually do something with it? I am quite cross with you.” Harry stood at the end of the small walk to where they would wed, arms crossed. “Oh, and you stole the registry letter that said we were only a 76% match.”

“Well, clearly it was wrong.”

“Clearly.” 

Merlin did not like the smug look on Harry’s face. “Will you just get over here so we can get married?”

“Only after you say you love me.”

“What? I don’t love you,” Merlin frowned. He started thinking about Harry, and the last thirty years. “Well, fuck. I think I was mixing up loathing and love. They are really quite similar, and rest side by side well.”

“Say it,” Harry called.

“You say it.”

“Happily. Evander Stewart, I love you.”

“Fine, Harry Hart, I love you, now get your arse over here so we can do this happy ever after crap. I want wedding cake.” Merlin held out his hand and Harry came, took it. Merlin kissed the back of it. “I’m not going to start being nice to you. Except in bed.”

Harry grinned. “Oh don’t worry, you can yell at me there too.”

“Ewww,” Eggsy flinched.

“I agree with that sentiment.” Percival shuddered a bit. “Perhaps we begin that grumpy and fussy ever after you two will have?”

“I look forward to it.” Merlin looked at Harry. “I will murder you in your sleep if you snore.”

“That means you are looking forward to sleeping next to me.”

“Fuck off, let’s wed.” 

Grumpy and fussy ever after was off to a very good start.


End file.
